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The vest worked. It worked, and Deanna is already nodding over his shoulder wound, her face calm, her hands steady. It didn’t hit a nerve, he’s okay. Dom’s okay.

My rage hits alongside my misery.

Alastair.. . fuck Alastair. He wanted the drama. He wanted the blood.

I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to act my part well enough.

So he made sure I did.

“Okay, enough. Out, Beau! I have him. Do you trust that I have him now?” Deanna snaps, glaring at Beau over her shoulder when he shifts forward to watch what she’s doing.

Dom’s face is tight, set in harsh lines of pain. But beneath his lashes, his eyes are on me... and he nods.

We’ve done it now.

Our charade has started.

Only it’s already more real than I want it to be.

Beau swallows, watching Deanna’s hands. “Do you know how to?—”

“It’s not arterial. I can suture. Get out .” Her face is kind, but firm, brooking no argument, and Beau nods, blinking.

Oh, Beau. My heart breaks for him—for the family he’s already lost, and the brother he was terrified to lose today.

He didn’t deserve this. It was supposed to be cleaner than this. I was supposed to be able to tell him about it right away, and he was supposed to be able to see that he wasn’t hurt.

I didn’t want Dom to be shot at all , but we ran out of time while we fought about it.

And Alastair needed it to be convincing.

Beau steps in, pressing a hard kiss to the top of Dom’s head, and he storms out of the med bay. I touch Dom’s ankle softly as I leave, following right behind Beau.

Dread and the shocky leftovers of fear spill through my veins.

There are other things I need to do. Alastair is sending men to the side tunnel for us to kill. Men who have done things that made me want to peel off my own skin, and Dom isn’t here to take care of them, so I need to.

But Beau .

Lucky and Jasper are in the hall, hope and relief on their faces, but all I can see is Beau as he turns to me.

Tears glisten on his cheeks, and his lips are trembling like a child who’s just learned to be afraid of the dark. I see the moment he puts it together, that he realizes this was the plan, and he turns to look at me.

He lifts a shaking, bloody hand to his forehead, struggling, but another tear spills out over his cheek.

Is he going to hate me again?

My own tears burn my throat, all my old fears welling up.

We’ve come so far, we’ve done so much work. I know he sent us out there, that he agreed we could make a plan for everyone, but this... this could break anyone’s trust.

“Eden . . .” His voice is thick. Raw. His eyes are confused and pleading, “What...?”

My gaze blurs, hot and wet, and I burst out, “Alastair wasn’t supposed to do that. Dom wasn’t supposed to get hurt.” Something in me shatters, and my tears spill out everywhere. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Beau. I’m so sorry. Are you mad? I . . . I’m sorry.”

But I only have to wait for one vile, agonizing second before Beau shakes his head, blinking. He wipes his tears, then drags me into him, wrapping me against his chest. I drink it in helplessly, crying against his shirt, and his heart beats like a drum, heavy and restless in my ears.

“I am mad, Eden,” he whispers against my hair, “but not at you.”

The fear and relief and anger and hope all crash into me, a storm and a whirlwind that swallow me whole.

He doesn’t hate me.

A sob breaks free, but he strokes my hair, whispering to me—soothing me... just like the first time we met.

“He’s okay,” he murmurs. “Deanna has him. It’s okay. We’re all going to be okay. I’m with you, darlin’. All the way. To the end.”

All the way.

We’re all going to do it together.

I hear Ava shout for help, and I take a breath.

I need to play my part.

Which means that we have a siege to break—and I have Sinners to kill.

Every bone, joint, and muscle in my body aches... and I would take that pain a thousand times over if I could erase what Jennifer is feeling right now.

The battle only ended a few hours ago. Lucky, Jasper, and Jayk are out in the forest, ensuring that the Sinners are truly on the run and none are lingering among our trees.

Beau is in a bed beside Dom’s, being treated for a light concussion and a dozen cuts of various severity from the debris blow-back.

The civilians are waiting on the all-clear before they can begin the clean up—and start collecting from the trove of supplies the Sinners left behind as they fled.

And I’m not feeling any of it.

Not the relief nor the joy nor the fearful anticipation of the battles in our future.

All I can see is Jennifer’s face as I told her what Sawyer was.

A coward.

A traitor.

A dreg of humanity who entraps and sells vulnerable people to save himself.

We’ve gone through disbelief and rage, and now she’s only curled up on the couch in Dom’s room, her head in Ida’s lap. Silent, soul-breaking tears slide down her face, and Ida strokes her temples with wrinkled fingers and slow, soothing love.

Ida’s crying, too.

We all are.

Sloane, Ava, Katherine, and Ethel are all dusty and hurting around the room after my brutal explanations about all of it. Alastair. The Sinners. The war we’re planning to fake to kill every bad apple Alastair can find.

And of course . . . about the Reapers.

Ethel sits in the armchair, her brief flare of energy through the battle seemingly hard spent. Ava’s back is to the wall, her eyes closed as she listens to Jennifer’s soft, gasping sobs.

I gently wipe my own cheeks.

“I can’t do it,” Jennifer moans, tucking her face into Ida’s lap. “I can’t face him again. I can’t pretend. Please don’t make me...”

The agony in her voice scrapes over my nerves, and I swallow hard.

Katherine kicks Dom’s side table, her dirty face a streaked, splotchy mess. “Fuckers! Absolute fuckers !”

Sloane gets up from where she’s sitting on the bed, shaking her head as she paces. Her eyes are sightless, and a bruise lines her right cheekbone.

“It’s your choice,” I tell her, my voice thick. I glance up. “All of you, I... You had a right to know. Sloane, if you can tell the other women, they can choose what they want to do. It’s always your choice.”

The last thing they have.

Their choice . . . and each other.

I sniff. “Anyone, all of you, you’re welcome to stay here.

Between the food the Sinners left behind, and what I’ll send you back from the farmlands, you’ll be fed.

Alastair won’t attack Bristlebrook—after being defeated here twice, he has a good excuse to keep the Sinners away.

He’ll focus on the farmlands, taking them, using the food as a draw. ”

I look between the women, aching, and they take my words in grimly. Ethel sighs tiredly, her creased face heavy with sadness. They’ve already had to fight too much.

Jennifer stares at me numbly from Ida’s lap.

A lone tear slips from the corner of her eye.

“It’ll be safe here,” I whisper. “You’ll be safe.

Jennifer, you can stay. We’ll leave the day after tomorrow, as soon as we can get packed.

Tell... him ... tell him you can’t leave your people, that you need to protect them here, and that they’re too weak to leave.

I can be there. I can be close when you speak to him, or. .. or I can do it for you.”

Jennifer’s eyes squeeze shut, and my heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest.

I remember her giggles on the bridge.

She believed him.

We all did.

“Whatever you need,” I tell her softly.

“And you?” Sloane asks, turning from the door to look at me. A slow-burning anger simmers behind her eyes. “You’re going with the Rangers?”

“I am.” I straighten as I nod, and my aching muscles scream.

Ignoring them, I hold up a phone. “I have the sat phone from Alastair. Dom will give ours to Arthur as well, so we can all communicate more securely than the radios allow. I’mgoing to help Dom to coordinate it all.

The fights, the deaths. My Rangers, Jasper.

.. they’ll make sure it all goes to plan and.

..” I breathe out heavily, the prospect of months of fights, of them risking their lives for this, already weighing on me. “Well, they’ll put on a good show.”

Simple enough, but dangerous.

All we need to do is convince the Reapers that we’re defending them, and the Sinners that the war is worth it, and slowly let them whittle each other away.

Without my brutes getting hurt.

But God, even so, one miscalculation, and... I rub my arm over the gooseflesh.

Ava finally lifts her head off the wall, looking at me dully from her seat on the floor. “They didn’t want to be here for this conversation?”

I meet her gaze across the room. “I thought it best if they weren’t.” I take a slow breath. “Not the men... not for this.”

Her eyes glisten, recalling her own words to me.

Ida looks between us, sharp and thoughtful as she takes it all in.

But her fingers don’t stop stroking Jennifer’s temple.

Clearing my throat, I continue firmly, “We don’t expect anyone to come with us—all of you can stay here.

There’s no reason to put yourselves in danger.

From the Sinners... or from living beside the Reapers.

” My skin crawls at the thought, but I hold their gazes, one by one. “This is not your problem to solve.”

“Bullshit,” Katherine snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “The Reapers came here. They lied to us! They’re in our home. They?—”

She looks over at Jennifer, who is shattering silently in Ida’s lap.

Katherine swallows, but the rage settles deep in her face.

Sloane nods to herself, and her tattooed hand rests on her pistol. “Are we sure , Eden? Sure beyond doubt that the Reapers did this?”

I nod. “Bentley confirmed it. He saw it himself. He... he freed some of them.”

Sloane’s face hardens. “Then these fuckers need to get nailed. I’m coming with you.”

Ava looks at me. “Me too.”

“Me as well,” Katherine says, her voice holding a snap I know isn’t for me.

In the sitting area, Ida and Ethel exchange a look that says a thousand words.